Page 25 of Going Down Smooth: Part Two

None of us reply because we don’t need to. We waited five years to love her again. There’s no way we could ever stop, no matter what comes our way. I will take all the bad that life has to offer just to have one good day with Merce at my side.

“I guess we will deal with the tree tomorrow,” I say, making my brothers groan.

FIFTEEN

FREEYA

“Cariña, if you keep squirming on my lap like that, I’m going to bend you over my tattoo bed and fuck you senseless.” Vic kisses the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine, and I want to forget why fucking wouldn’t be a good idea. Of course, those promises only make me squirm more. Tightening his grip on my hips, the hard ridge of his cock digs into my ass.

“Because we don’t have time. Mercy will be here soon, and you know I like to draw out your pleasure, cariña,” Vic replies, pulling my earlobe between his teeth, making me hiss.

“Did I say that out loud?” I say in surprise as he lifts me from his lap and swats my ass.

“You say a lot of things out loud, but I won’t recount what you were screaming last night as you came all over Dez’s cock,” Vic says playfully, making me blush. These men. I go to sit behind his desk, well, it’s more of a drafting table than a desk. Vic owns a tattoo shop, Deviant Ink in downtown Frankfort, only a few blocks away from M. Bar. All my Alphas have their own businesses, and damn if it doesn’t make life interesting. I don’t think I will ever get bored.

I watch him work, prepping his table, the scents of antiseptic, cleaning products, and candy give off a strangely comforting feeling. We both fall into an easy silence as he moves around the room. Pictures of his artwork in black and white, and color tattoo sketches line the walls. Along with images of models and some very famous celebrities sporting his ink. Vic, I’ve learned, is very sought after with a waiting list a mile long. Which is why when Mercy called me yesterday and asked if Vic had any availability, I wasn’t sure she could get an appointment, especially not the next day. But for Mercy Smooth, he made an exception. “Anything for your best friend, cariña, she is familia,” he said without hesitation when I asked.

“Maybe I should get a tattoo along with Mercy today,” I say absently. Vic pauses mid wipe, grey eyes catching mine, his pierced eyebrow lifts in question. He looks at me for a long moment, like he’s picturing exactly what he would put on my body, then he smiles. Yep, I’m going to be sitting with wet panties until we get home.

Vic is classically handsome, a mix of Spanish and African descent, with golden brown skin, black, spikey hair tipped white. He’s covered in tattoos with a septum piercing in his nose. A combination of bad boy, covering up the nice geeky man on the inside. Not only does he own his own tattoo shop, he’s also extremely smart with an IQ even my mother would approve of. He’s not just a pretty face.

“Do I get to decide what goes on your skin, carina?” he asks, sauntering over in a pair of black jeans that hug his muscular thighs and a white t-shirt with the Deviant Ink logo, consisting of a Sugar skull with pens and paint brushes pouring out of its mouth. He turns the swivel chair I’m in to face him then braces his tattooed arms on either side of me and leans in.

“Yes,” I say breathlessly, trying and failing to swallow past the lump in my throat. My body immediately reacts to his closeness, and I know he knows it. Vic takes a deep breath and brushes his lips against mine. “I’m going to have to make good on my promise, carina. You’re all wet and ready for me, aren’t you.” He kisses my lips and steps away from me, leaving me wanting. “For what I plan for your ink, though, I think we can do it in private, in my bedroom.” He raises his eyebrows suggestively, making me huff out a laugh as someone knocks on his door.

“Come,” he calls out, winking at me as I pull myself together.

“Yo, Vic. Your next appointment is here,” his receptionist, Bryce, yells through the crack in the door. I spring to my feet, bouncing on my heels because it’s been weeks since I’ve seen Mercy in person. These past few weeks we’ve been corresponding through video chats and text messages as we prep for the Christmas Gala we’ve been planning. The first of many events she has planned in her relaunch of Smooth Bourbon to the world. My girl has had a tough time for weeks, but although she’s been down, she’s been moving forward with her goals. Thank goodness she started speaking to a therapist, I thought I was going to have to drag her out of the house myself. But she’s here. Finally.

“I will go and get her,” I say to Vic. I follow behind his receptionist as he leads me through the empty parlor. Four tattoo stations line the walls, two on either side, with a smaller set up than Vic’s. The walls are painted black with a large brightly colored graffiti version of the logo on full display when you enter, just behind the receptionist desk. Black leather seats line the front windows, with side tables full of tattoo magazines and the various tattoo artists’ sketch books on top. Everything is clean and tidy, dark and gothic in design, befitting a modern tattoo parlor, not the dives you fall into on a drunken night out, that’s for sure.

I spot Mercy easily, her small frame sandwiched between Lox and Knight. Both of whom are busy with their heads down, focused on their phones. Outside in front of the shop, is their head of security, Dane, who stands sentry. Between the three of them, I doubt anyone would stand a chance if they tried to come for her here. Just as I’m about to call her name in greeting, my phone pings in my pocket. I watch the receptionist say something to Mercy, who catches my eye and stands. Waving them over with my hands, I reach for my phone to see there’s an unknown person who has sent a text to me.

UNKNOWN: Freeya Stuart. I’ve finally found you.

I pause at the sight of my full name. Not a lot of people know my last name, well, the correct spelling of my last name. I tense up seeing it now. My hackles rise, especially with the person on the other end being unknown. I keep a low profile; I have for years after my family disowned me. No one knows this number except for the people that matter. I want to brush it off. They know your name. I think to myself as my hands hover over the screen. Trying to keep my cool, I reply.

Me: I didn’t know I was lost. Who is this?

UNKNOWN: Someone who you will meet very soon.

Me: Excuse me, how did you get my number? How do you know me?

I type furiously, the last message makes me suck in a breath of shock I didn’t realize I was holding until I sway on my feet from lack of oxygen.

“Freeya,” I hear Mercy call my name but don’t answer as my phone chimes again.

UNKNOWN: You’re a Stuart, Freeya. They’ve had eyes on you this entire time. Did you really think you were free?

“Freeya.” Mercy’s concerned face comes into view, her face is so close that I startle and take a step back. Not wanting to face what I just saw on my screen, I shove my phone in my pocket and try to ignore it. They’ve been watching me. Keeping tabs. What could my family want with me now after all these years? After all this time?

Clearing my throat, I steady myself and force a smile. “I’m fine. Fine. Someone from the office sent me another article about you.” I shrug but my lie feels heavy on my tongue. “It’s my job to filter all the good ones and the bad.”

“Was this a bad one? You looked terrified just now,” Knight asks, arching a brow at me. I can tell he’s not buying my lie one bit. By the amused smirk on Lox’s face, neither is he.

“I’m sorry, Free. We can get Miss Caroline to deal with the press, you have enough on your plate,” Mercy states as I take her arm in mine and lead us all to Vic’s office.

“No. It’s my job as your second to deal with all things Mercy Smooth. You have the people out there who love you and sing your praises, and those like Christopher who wear their hate against change on their sleeves,” I say as Vic opens the door to his office to greet us. He shakes hands with Knight and Lox, and they all fall into a quiet conversation as I usher Mercy toward the tattoo bed.

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